A secret place
by ChemicalCucum
Summary: They loved in their secret way, a bittersweet memory. An adhesive of friendship to the rivalry of their children. Baek/Jun. Jin & Hwoarang.
1. Part 1

**AN**: An annoying plot-bunny that refused to shift. This one's for you, NewBrawler since you wanted it, haha. Ya'll go ahead and laugh at my inability to write romance (Sheesh) I wanted it to be a one-shot, but as usual my writing just carried on so it's a two-parter.

**Part 1.**

He remembered the scent of honeysuckle and the sound of leaves rustling with the gentle whispers of the afternoon breeze. He remembered looking up from the park bench to see a figure, cautiously ascending a nearby tree one handed, a small bundle wrapped in white in one hand.

His curiosity was stirred, and he momentarily forgot his previous lamentation, lapsing into his recent hobby of people watching. He wasn't really sure why, but he had taken a liking to simply watching the people around him, figuring them out, watching them live and exist. It provided a pleasant distraction from his usual solipsism.

The figure he was watching was a woman. Her back was turned, but he discerned she was young, slender, and pale, with short black hair and a flowing white summer dress. In the warm, bright sun of the afternoon, she glowed against the rich brown of the tree bark and the luscious green of the leaves.

Thinking back on it, he knew he could never forget her.

* * *

"Sabumnim! Are you in here?"

His head snapped up from where he was bent over the open suitcase on his lap. The door behind him opened with a squeak, and in an instant he'd flung the object in his hand back into the case and snapped the lid shut, just as his student entered.

"Come on Sabumnim! I'm seriously bored; can't we hurry up and leave already?"

He turned to watch his protégé saunter across the room to stand next to him by the bed, his expression irritable, sighing gently despite himself, turning to look at the closed suitcase in his hand.

"Sabumnim?"

Hwoarang bent over slightly in concern, noting the look on his Master's face. Baek quickly shook his head, waving his hand briskly.

"It's fine hak-saeng, just a little tired."

Hwoarang drew back, shrugging his shoulders and taking his Master's word for it, noticing how tightly he was gripping the case with his right hand.

"Ehhh...when are we ready to leave?" He ventured, rubbing the back of his head.

Baek paused for a moment, looking down at the case, lips pursed tightly, "In a little while. There are just a few things I want to do first."

Hwoarang nodded, looking at his master's face with concern, before turning to leave, knowing it to be better to leave him be rather than pursue the issue. Gently he closed the door behind him, pausing for a moment to consider the look on Baek's face.

It looked like he was hurting over something, like something had upset him, and he couldn't help but wonder what, despite knowing that no amount of asking would result in answers. He wondered if it were that locket of his, the one he'd seen his Master looking at from time to time. He'd pestered him about it when he was younger, but years of constant refusal, and even punishment if he had been particularly relentless in demanding answers, had caused him to stop questioning it and what was inside it.

His expression wasn't the same however, Hwoarang mused. Anytime he had caught Baek with that locket in his hand he always had a look of sadness, like he was thinking of something long since passed that had left a bad taste in his memory, and whilst his expression had looked pained just moments ago, it was also…softer.

He could not really say what his thoughts or conjectures where based on or where they had come from, so Hwoarang simply shrugged them off and left the hotel, intent on finding something to do until further notice.

* * *

Slowly he let out the bated breath held in his lungs as the door closed with a definite click. For a moment he listened to the whisperings of Hwoarang's feet as he walked down the hallway, and then to the silence in the warm hotel room, eyes downcast from the glare of the setting sun through the crack in the window facing him. For a while he simply sat, remembering, feeling; hand still tight on the suitcase.

Eventually his mind trailed back to thoughts of her.

* * *

The woman had his attention completely as he found himself simply watching her, forgetting the locket in his hand, forgetting the warmth on his neck that was slowly becoming uncomfortable in its zenith. He simply watched her, curious to what she was doing, curious as to whom she was, eyes on the billowing folds of her wide summer dress, the folds of which swayed with her movements gracefully; she was so pretty to watch.

By now she had scrambled onto the first branch of the tree, about six feet from the ground. If it weren't for whatever it was in her hand that she was apparently taking such care of, she could have easily been quicker; as it were it took her five full minutes to simply be seated in the first branch.

Still her back was turned to him, and he found his eyes narrowed, watching her steady herself on her feet, clinging to the trunk of the tree with one hand, the white bundle, about the size of a golf ball, in the other. Her skirt billowed to and fro, and while she was a little shaky, she held great poise and delicacy in her movements. She slowly reached up to the branch above her, gripping it and deliberately heaving herself up upon it, taking care with her feet against the trunk.

He was starting to worry for her now, but he refrained from moving, figuring she may consider him rude or intrusive if he approached her. It took her longer to get onto this second, narrower branch, but she managed it artlessly. He watched as she turned her body toward him, slinging her leg over the branch, allowing him to see her face.

Despite being several feet away, and therefore the view was not satisfactory, he could clearly see she was fresh-faced and young; suddenly he found the desire to see her better: who was this elegant creature, scrambling up trees, defying her otherwise lady-like appearance with such single-minded intent? What was that in her hand? What was she doing, really?

For a moment he fought with himself. In truth he hadn't had much interaction with women, mostly due to his temper, he had avoided them, seen them as frivolous and a waste of time. Sure they would catch his eye if they were particularly to his liking, but he paid them no mind, too lost in his anger and sorrow to care, more intent in pushing his body to the limit than pushing for relationships.

So what was he to do? He wasn't shy as such, just inexperienced. He kept his eyes fixed on her a moment longer, watching her lower herself onto the branch, slowly dragging herself along, further away from the trunk, always using just the one hand, the one clutching the white bundle held out before her; he stood up.

What was there to lose really?

He approached, eyes fixed on her, her face revealing itself more and more, strands of hair in her eyes, the most delicate movements of her thigh over the branch clear to his eyes; eventually he was so close he could hear her breathe.

He was almost directly beneath her when his mind screamed to stop, but not knowing why he continued to walk, suddenly chilled by the thought of approaching her.

He had walked right past her, not looking at her, mind blank.

He started cursing himself. He couldn't rightly turn around and go back to her now could he? He found himself mentally sputtering over every idea to legitimately go back to her, but his ideas were needless, as once he was several feet away there was ushered a loud exclamation of surprise, followed by the quick rustling of leaves and a heavy thud.

She had fallen out of the tree onto the grass to the side of the pavement bellow, sprawled out on her back, dazed; quickly he ran back to her, concerned.

The woman raised herself onto her rear, rubbing the back of her head tenderly, looking stunned and slightly agonised, groaning softly. She appeared not to notice Baek as he halted in front of her, bending down quickly to look at her.

"Miss, are you alright?"

He found his voice to be shaky with nerves, suddenly finding himself so close to her, her obvious beauty now fully apparent to him; taking his breath away.

"Yes…don't worry about me I'm fine."

Her voice was like silk, delicate, soft, flowing. Baek found his eyes suddenly drawn from her face to her dress, the fabric sprawled over her lap and the grass like water ripples.

"What were you doing in that tree anyway? If I may ask?"

His voice was so shaky! She was brushing herself off, not looking at him, fixing her hair and smoothing out her skirt; he hoped she didn't notice, "Putting a baby bird back in its nest."

For a moment her answer took him back and he simply crouched before her, looking at her face intently, so nonchalant, like what she had done was the most natural thing in the world.

"Excuse me?"

"A baby bird," she said it like it was obvious, but not rudely. She stood up slowly, "A little sparrow. I found it by the base of the tree."

"You would waste your time doing that?" He rose with her, curious about her bird-rescuing habit.

She gave him a inquiring look, one that was not cold, but pierced him with its severity, like she was confused as to why he would ask such a question.

"If we don't give even the smallest of things our time, how can we give it to anything at all?"

Her voice was level, soft, calm, her question taking him back.

"I don't see what you mean," he responded, folding his arms.

She smiled, and it only increased her beauty in its genuine sincerity, "Think about it, if you must, you'll understand eventually, you seem the thoughtful type."

"I do, do I?"

He was truly at a loss for words before her.

"Yes. I saw you on that park bench over there," she inclined her head, her hair waving gently with her movement, "You looked lost in thought, and looking at you now, I can see it plain as day."

He simply stared at her for a moment, her face soft, delicate, warm, with bright brown eyes and fine porcelain lips, and Baek was sure just then that she was the prettiest woman he'd ever laid eyes upon. She noticed his stupefaction with the slightest crinkling of her brow and she extended her hand to him.

"Jun. Nice to meet you."

Baek took a moment to register her action before snapping from his daze, shaking his head, "Ugh, Baek."

Taking her hand in his caused his stomach to turn; her skin so soft and grip so gentle.

"I think I've seen you before, Baek."

Her look was so searching that Baek felt himself grow uncomfortable, not recognising her himself; suddenly stricken with the fear that perhaps she was aware of his…endeavours.

"Yeah…you participated in the last Iron Fist tournament, didn't you?"

He let out a mental breath, "Y-yes I did but…I don't remember you?"

She shook her head, "Oh I wouldn't expect you to, it was several years ago now."

She was smiling again; what a radiant creature she was!

"You participated?" Baek ventured, looking for something to talk about, trying to conceal his enamoured physiognomy.

She nodded her head, "Yes, I didn't do very well, other…things came up, but that's ok." She sighed.

He did not respond, finding himself content just to look at her for a moment. She was perfect, her voice, her skin, hair, demeanour, of all the women he had ever afforded affection to, none of them compared. He suddenly no longer cared if his expression looked blank and his countenance dopey, he was captivated, having never before believed in the idea that one could love at first sight, he was experiencing something akin to it now with her.

And when she looked up into his face with intense but soft warmth, a gentle twitch of the lips that almost invited him in, they caught each other's eyes and he knew he had become enraptured in her.

* * *

He realised he had been wandering, bored out of his skull with impatience and lack of anything to do whilst his Master took care of things. Rubbing the back of head, eyes glancing around him, Hwoarang wondered what else it was that Baek wanted to 'take care of.' He had been so subdued recently, which wasn't usual when they travelled to tournaments. He hadn't seemed all that interested in Hwoarang's competition in the tournament they had travelled here for, and he could not help but wonder why.

He found himself by the gates of a park. With nothing more to do he went inside, intending to sit down somewhere. He spent a few moments walking down the heavily concealed park pathway, looking for a clearing or sign of a bench.

Bu what, or to say, whom, he found there should not have come as a surprise to him, but all the same, they caused him to start.

"You!"

The person he was looking at turned his head, seated with legs and arms crossed on the sought-after bench, brow raised in recognition at the sight of the redhead.

"Hwoarang?"

"Kazama."

"What are you doing in Japan?" Jin asked.

"None of your business."

Hwoarang was about to march on, still a little burnt by their last unresolved confrontation shortly after the fourth Iron Fist tournament, when Jin spoke up again.

"I heard Baek is better. How is he?"

Hwoarang spun around, lips pursed, almost pouting a little, "Why do you care?"

"No need for the attitude, I was just asking."

"He's fine."

"I heard you were in prison."

Hwoarang gave Jin a look, head tilted back, "How do you know all this Kazama?"

"I have my ways," Jin shrugged.

"Yeah I was; no big deal."

"Well, you don't look any tougher." Jin was smiling

"You tryin' to say something Kazama?" Hwoarang took a step forward, suddenly irritated by the sight of his rival, "You and me right now bud. Come on!"

Jin gave Hwoarang a hard, questioning look, creasing his brows in a mixture of annoyance and surprise, "Just like that? Well, I suppose it beats you practically stalking me for a fight, then again…" Jin couldn't help smiling, "Are you here for me?"

"Dream on Kazama!"

Jin shook his head, smiling a little before his expression turned serious again, "It is not a good time Hwoarang."

His tone was warning, and Hwoarang shook his head and tutted with a slight snarl, "That's two depressed people to make my day better," he mumbled.

"I am not depressed."

"You look it. All the time."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me Kazama."

Jin remained silent, eyes narrowed, "I'd like it if you went away."

Hwoarang's face twisted from shock to offence to anger, "What the hell is your problem!? I have a right to be here you know."

"Of course but…" a fleeting expression of sorrow passed over the Japanese youth's face as he leaned forward on his lap, looking down at the ground, sombre, "It's…personal."

"This place special or something?"

Jin was silent.

"Fine. Whatever."

Hwoarang turned and started marching down the path, feeling irritable and confused by Jin's behaviour. They weren't exactly friends, but he had to admit he found Jin pleasant enough to be around, despite it all. Still the Japanese man's behaviour bothered him, and he hadn't fully gotten over their draw and the last, botched re-match.

He put Jin out of his thoughts, finally coming into a clearing. It was a wide, neatly paved area dotted with benches, trees and shrubs, with a wide open field off to Hwoarang's right. Casting his eyes around, noting the darkening sky which was laced with pinks and blues, he espied a familiar figure sitting on a bench several feet from a large oak tree.

His Master.

His brow arched; hadn't Baek said he was going to take care of something? What was he doing here?

He approached his Master, and all the while he never once looked up, completely alone, face hidden under the rim of his hat, looking down at something in his hand. Tentatively Hwoarang slowed his pace, looking carefully over the figure of his Master, not sure what to say.

"…Sabumnim?"

Baek gave a start, jolting up to look at his student with a shock; Hwoarang had never seen him look so startled before.

"Is something wrong? What are you doing here?" He bowed quickly, keeping his eyes peeled on Baek, noting that what was in his hand was now on the ground beneath him. Without thinking he picked it up whilst bent down, forgetting his manners.

He caught a quick glance of a pretty woman dressed in white with a child in her arms before Baek suddenly stood, irate.

"Hwoarang!"

Hwoarang snapped up, rigid as a board, arms at his sides in a millisecond, dropping the photo in the process, expression wide-eyed. Baek stooped and picked the photograph up off the ground and put it in his pocket, casting his protégé a severe look.

But there was no rebuke. Baek simply sat back down, looking drained, rubbing his temples with a gloved hand; Hwoarang loosened a little, looking at his elder with concern.

"Sabumnim? What's wrong?"

He took a gamble and sat down beside him, "You've been funny ever since we came here."

Baek simply stared down at the ground, silent; Hwoarang fidgeted.

"Umm…well, this is awkward," he rubbed the back of his head, "If you don't wanna talk I guess that's fine."

Baek heaved a sigh, "I am sorry Hwoarang, it's not a very pleasant time for me right now."

Hwoarang turned his head away, looking back in the direction from which he came.

"I guess that makes two of you," he muttered, thinking of Jin.

"Hmm?" Baek inclined his head slightly.

"Well I bumped into Kazama. He looks bad too."

He noticed his Master's eyes widen slightly at the name.

"Sabumnim?"

"No, no it's nothing it…just doesn't surprise me to hear that."

Hwoarang cocked a brow, "Say what now? What do you mean?"

Baek remained silent for a moment, look pensive, "He's probably thinking about her too."

"Her? Who? That woman in the photo?"

Baek's look showed his surprise at his student's attentiveness for a moment before setting into a very sad, almost longing frown, "…yes."

Hwoarang frowned, folding his arms, "You and Kazama, thinking about the same woman? Say what now? What's going on?"

Baek sighed, "Hwoarang…"

"Sorry Sabumnim, but you've left me in the dark, the pair of you are in a strop and I'm just here wondering what the hell is going on."

Baek narrowed his eyes at Hwoarang for a moment before turning away, not really sure that he wanted to explain to him what was wrong, but if he didn't…if he didn't he may go to Jin to get the answers. Hwoarang was inquisitive, and the elder Korean had had a hard time brushing the youth off when he became curious in the past.

He sighed heavily, eyes downcast, suddenly heavy-hearted, forced to confess his most intimate of secrets.

"The woman in the photograph is Jun Kazama, Jin's mother."


	2. Part 2

**Part 2.**

It was like a perfect dream, filled with warm haze and golden lights. The haze was her beauty and the gold was her eyes. For the first time in a long time, Baek felt happy.

He had stood before her infatuated, and she had known his feelings from looking in his eyes. At first she made no mention, but simply asked if he would like to take a walk with her. When she held out her hand intending on lacing her arm through his, Baek had trembled before her, delicately folding his arm through hers, so sure that the simple act of uniting himself to her would break what was so like an illusion.

He meandered with her like she was glass, so sure he would shatter her if he put a single movement or word wrong, but nothing he rebutted himself for seemed to faze her, everything with her was a smile or a gentle laugh.

He was contented to simply watch her. She did not speak of herself, only asked him questions, turning her attention from watching him speak (something that caused his already cotton-filled mouth to flounder even more) to watching the beauty of the park around her. One minute it would be the birds in the air, the sound of the leaves next, and the flowers on the ground last.

Baek had never met anyone like her. Her attentiveness to all things around her, her seeming fascination and obvious joy over the smallest of nature's objects was endearing. He believed this woman virginal, innocent, the kindest creature he'd ever encountered, and despite his nerves, he felt he could confess all to her, and she would not reject him.

But he kept it inside. He'd just met her, he couldn't be so foolish. He could not believe that in just a few hours he had come to feel this way about another person; wasn't this the thing of fairy tales?

"Baek?"

His reverie was broken by the silver bell of her voice. His eyes met hers, and he was surprised to see her frowning, though it did not decrease her beauty in any way.

"Is there something wrong?"

She gently tugged his arm, leading him to a bench, hidden behind foliage. She kept her arm in his, but turned to face him, looking up at him with searching eyes; Baek felt himself waver.

"You look so sad, I could see it on your face when I first saw you back there," Jun began, searching his face with an intense gaze that caused Baek to blush in its astuteness.

"I know we've just met and all but," she gripped his hand, and the feeling was like fire through the Korean's skin, "But there's just something about you that I think you need to let out."

He kept his silence, unsure how to respond; surely she felt his trembling in her hand, for she gripped his hand tighter then pulled her hand away, "I'm sorry, I'm making you nervous aren't I?"

She unlaced her arm from his, and the action pained Baek immensely, but still he kept his silence, so lost and confused as what to do or say.

She watched him, eyes soft and look so tender Baek couldn't help but stutter a little. He felt imprudent, losing his composure so easily in the face of a pretty woman. What was it about her, what made her so special? He could barely contain the torrent of feelings that surged through his veins in a miasma of barely contained expression.

"It's alright Baek, whatever it is, it's alright."

She touched his hand again, and the softness of her skin against his reassured the Korean that she understood him, even in the short moments of their meeting, despite the lack of words, her very self could see him and for the very first time, he felt comforted.

Before he was even aware of himself, or could conjecture his reasons for it, he gripped Jun's hand in both his own, feeling the choke, wordless expression bubbling forth, shuddering in her wake and simply gasping out all the things he had ever wanted to say in a sobbing, strangled whisper.

She understood his lexes, his emotions, and she did not pull away, gently placing her free hand on top of his, a silent comfort.

* * *

"So…what exactly is so special about Jin's mother?"

Baek looked at Hwoarang, and the look was one of irritation. He did not wish to outwardly say what it was that made her special, made her precious, what made the mere thought of her hurt his heart, he wanted Hwoarang's natural inquisitiveness to do the thinking were the elder's words had failed.

"She was...a friend, and an amazing woman. Today is the anniversary of her death."

Hwoarang's curious look dropped to a look of realisation, "…oh."

Baek pulled the photograph out from his pocket, holding it out to look at it and allowing Hwoarang to lean in to look also. The photograph was of a very pretty Japanese woman with short black hair, a white handkerchief in her hair, white top and a small child in her arms who Hwoarang recognised immediately as Jin.

"Why would you have something like this?" Hwoarang asked, a little disconcerted by the sight of his rival, barely older than three or four in the picture.

"Can you not possibly imagine why?" Baek whispered, unable to say the words himself.

Hwoarang looked at Jun in the photograph, then at his Master, and then back again, the realisation hitting him.

"Oh! Ooohh…"

The redhead pulled back, not saying a word, feeling very awkward at learning of their relation. Baek and Jin's mother!? This was crazy. Wait…Jin's _mother_…

"I thought that Kazuya guy was Jin's father?"

Baek stammered a little, whipping up to look at Hwoarang incredulously.

"Are you really that dense!? Of course Kazuya Mishima is Jin's father!"

"Sheesh! Alright, alright sorry I asked," Hwoarang waved his hands, settling back down on the park bench, having leapt up from his Master's sudden outburst.

"But yes, we were…involved. Needless to say, it's my reason for the visit." Baek explained, looking down at the photograph.

"Well that tournament you entered me in was so useless, I suspected something else was up," Hwoarang mentioned, leaning back into the bench and stretching his arms over the side of the back, "But I never imagined this." He chuckled a little.

Baek remained silent, already feeling drained by Hwoarang's presence and nonchalant attitude. He had simply wished for nothing more than to be alone with his memories of her, in their secret place, to remember her and reflect; he kept the memories of her locked away, safe and secure, at all other times, because sometimes when they came out without his intention, they overwhelmed him during the nights in which he would lie awake, thinking and reflecting.

She haunted him, her memory like pale lilac tendrils on the corners of his dreams.

And this was the only time he would permit himself to lose his reason to her again.

"Why this park though? Both you and Jin, something special?"

Baek turned to see Hwoarang looking about him, examining the grass and trees, noting how the world outside had simply disappeared from where they sat, Baek nodded his head.

"Yes."

"She liked it?"

"Yes. We first met here."

Hwoarang pulled on his bottom lip with his top one, looking around him, brushing strands of hair from his eyes, uneasy around his Master, "I…Sabumnim?"

Baek turned to look at the younger Korean, taken back by the soft look in the youth's brown eyes.

"I'm sorry. I dunno what happened between you and her but I should have left you alone, shouldn't I?"

Baek simply looked at Hwoarang for a moment, unsure what to say, before a muttered whisper passed his lips, "…yes."

The youth shrugged, stood up and took a long hard look at his Master, hands in pockets, "I'll see you later?"

Baek did not respond and Hwoarang noted there was a strong look of embarrassment on the elder's face, and he imagined his own countenance matched it; they'd never been intimate with each other.

He wordlessly turned and started walking back in the direction he'd come from, feeling despondent.

Baek did not watch him go, too busy gazing into the celluloid face of the woman he had called his own, his one and only, clutching his last memory of her in reality with a tenderness that defied all the things those around him presumed to know.

Except in his dreams did he dare to remember her. Except for this day, for this time, and this place, he could afford himself the pain if only to remember her more closely than he could any other memory, not even the memory of his father held such potency, for it lacked the physical, there were no reminders except a locket and his heartbeat.

But Jun Kazama was everywhere. Everything.

She was whispered words of kindness, gentle, warm smiles, loving laughter, birds in the air, mothers with their children. She had a legacy and a past, carried on in Jin Kazama, whose countenance sometimes caused Baek's heart to ache, it was so familiar of her.

All these things ensured she would always be remembered, and the pain of her would always strike more sharply than the dull, stonewashed and yellowed aches brought upon his self from the memory of his father; one masking the other, hiding the other.

* * *

There could be no doubt on either of them; they had come to love one another. Baek learnt that Jun carried herself off into the wilderness, living in perfect solitude with her young son Jin, occasionally visiting this part of Japan to bring Jin a little closer to normal interaction.

Baek only questioned her once on why this was so, and Jun revealed she too had secrets that ran deep and painful. Baek was not in the least put off by Jun's single parent status, he thought nothing less of her when she confessed her liaison with Kazuya, a man he held no regard for. The knowledge that he had simply used Jun and abandoned her and their child caused nothing but anger to the Korean; placing fatherhood in such high regard as he did, but also for ever wishing to hurt such a creature as Jun.

They spent the next two weeks simply in the presence of the other. Little Jin was much too energetic and puppy-like to pay attention to 'mommy's man friend' and contented himself scrambling up trees and watching the wildlife to bother the adults, giving the pair time to reflect and consider Jin, which lead to them considering other topics.

"You've never been in love then?" Jun enquired, out of the blue with her observant questions as she was fond of doing.

Baek blushed and shook himself, always taken back by her astute frankness, "N…no not until…"

But he could not bring himself to finish. Was he really in love? Did he love her? These past two weeks had been nothing but joy to him. Jun was a light in his otherwise dim existence, warm and caressing like the rays of a sorely missed sun on a winter plain.

Jun smiled and touched his hand, "It's alright Baek."

* * *

Three more weeks went by, and every day Baek fell more and more in love with her. Their relation was innocent, charming, with no unwarranted approaches, no passion as such, but rather, a gentle, warm, all-encompassing love; perhaps it was due to inexperience of such things, though Baek's inexperience was only on the forefront of love, he had no desire to pursue Jun further than what they had currently, such was the effect of her chastity upon him.

"I have to go back home tomorrow," Jun explained, her voice downcast, eyes soft.

For a moment the wind in his lungs failed him as he stood looking at her, knowing this day would come, but not wishing it to.

"When can I see you again?"

Jun pursed her lips in thought, and she looked so beautiful to him just then that he took her hand in his, "Jun, this will be agony for me to be away from you."

Did he really just say that? Finally his courage could champion forth behind his desperation, brushing his modesty and fear aside.

"I know Baek, I feel the same. You've been wonderful, and I'll always be thinking of you."

Her words were magic to his ears, "Then tell me when I can see you again."

"I don't know Baek, things are…tenuous for Jin and myself."

He faltered, knowing full well of their plight, something that stressed him to no end. If it were not for the fact he had his dojang to look after and pupils to teach, he would flee to the woods with her then and there.

"I wish I could be with you…" he lamented. She touched his face, caressing his cheek lovingly; behind them Jin was singing nursery rhymes in a squawking lilt, laughing and swinging his legs back and forth in the backseat of Jun's car.

"I wish you could too," she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace that left him intoxicated with the scent of her and the feel of her body against his.

He lost his control in her, and wrapped her in his arms, burying his face in the crook of her neck, whispering his love for her, singing his adulations with his breath.

Jun pulled away enough to reciprocate his affections with a kiss; their very first, and it felt like all of his senses melted at the contact, making his head spin and stomach lurch. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything in his life.

But the rapture was not to last and as she pulled away the world became cold. She gave her final, tearful goodbye and departed in the silver dusk of the warm summer evening, the image of her sweet face with her tears of glass burned into his memory and his heart.

He spent many months in agony over her.

* * *

During their long but patchy relationship, Baek entertained the idea of their starting a family.

"Jin is getting older, he's ten next week right? I have a student here about the same age, Hwoarang, and those two are very similar, I think they'd like each other."

"Hwoarang? You've told me about that boy, you've become very fond of him, you don't speak of any other students."

"I suppose yes. He lives with me now, found him on the streets, I guess having him around made me think of you and Jin."

"He is a son to you," Jun observed, her voice knowing over the phone connection, "And you think we could all live together like a happy family."

"Why not?" Baek asked, already dreading her answer.

Her answer was silence and Baek felt his heart drop.

"I would love nothing more," her voice was a whisper, and the pain and the longing there almost broke his heart, "But I can't Baek. I can't."

* * *

For years their love was a fixture of brief, raptured weeks spent together between months lonely and apart, frequent phone calls and letters their only expression during lonely nights. During all that time Baek never suspected he would lose her, never dreamt what would happen would happen, despite all her warnings and fears, and the thought that no one, not even Jin, had been with her in the final moments of her life tormented him.

But before that fated time had come to pass, he was to see her again, after no more than a year since their last meeting. Hwoarang was sixteen and finally as responsible as Baek believed him capable of (which wasn't much) but he could not contain his desire to be united with Jun any longer, and had left the young delinquent in charge of the house and dojang, on the warning any trouble would be punished severely (most likely by taking away the young Korean's 'bike allowance')

He had not told Hwoarang about his relationship with Jun, he could not think why he had not done so, but put it down to the longing of her being too painful, and fearing the young Korean would notice it; Baek had never been good at expressing himself in the presence of others.

She had not changed, as radiant to him as ever. Their first embrace after so long filled his mind with ecstasy, their ramble through her favourite park, the place they first met, a joy. Their conversations, embraces, gentle touches, and the culmination of their love in a warm hotel room, nothing but a halcyon to both.

Looking back on it, that one day was probably the perfect ending to a perfect love in an otherwise imperfect circumstance.

Perhaps Baek was never destined to have happiness like the happiness Jun gave him, like the happiness of his father before her.

"I wish everything was different, I wish it didn't have to be like this," Jun lamented, lying with her back to Baek in the hotel bed, "I wish I didn't have to hide."

Baek turned his head to look at her in the dark, admiring the form of her pale shoulders, sadness in his heart, "You do what you have to, and we'll manage."

"Sometimes I don't feel safe, sometimes…I feel like I have been a fool."

In the dark she began to cry, and Baek pulled her into his arms tenderly, hushing her with gentle caresses and sweet whispers, all the while holding his own agony at bay.

* * *

Her death had hit him harder than anything he had faced up to that point. With his father, he had been the cause, he had at least that closure, but with Jun, it had been only months after their last engagement. There was no how or why, she was simply gone.

His heart had never been as broken as it was then. Its already shattered state had been carefully welded back together, piece by piece over the years. She had been a balm in aiding its healing, in fading the cracked scar tissue, but now without her, with her dead, the cracks had broken and shattered irreparably.

Nothing could console him.

Despite Baek's best attempts to conceal his grief, Hwoarang had overheard him, and the teenager never admitted to knowing about the sound of his Master's sobbing that night, and that it had frightened him in its violence.

There was never an answer for why, and Baek had never confronted Jin regarding his mother, though Jin was fully aware of their relation.

Whatever it had been that took her from him, Baek never knew, and perhaps that was for the best, perhaps that was why Jin had kept his silence regarding it; learning that what had happened to his mother had also happened to Baek in the form of an angry redhead seeking vengeance on that being known as Ogre, was too ironic to express.

Baek would have gladly traded places with Jun as Ogre's victim.

And this coincidence of the two lovers had given Jin respite when it came to Hwoarang, but he kept the knowledge secret, suspecting that the young Korean had no clue, and that it would be better for Baek to keep him separate, to spare him the pain of Hwoarang's questions, since he too was also touched by Jun's radiance and Jin could not help but hold affection to Baek for that reason alone.

Jun had loved him, so that meant Baek was worthwhile.

* * *

He noticed that Jin had not moved from where he sat on the park bench. Hwoarang divulged that was close to an hour ago and tentatively he approached him, though the black-haired youth did not look up to regard him.

"Hey."

Jin nodded but remained silent.

"I know what you're here for."

Jin kept silent.

"And…I'm sorry about earlier."

Jin quickly glanced at him, "That's alright."

Hwoarang slowly sat down beside him, "He told me…about your mother."

Jin simply continued staring down at the ground.

"Why did you never say anything? If you knew about him?"

"Who said I knew?" Jin replied.

"Come on Kazama, I'm not stupid. He hid it well I admit but…yeah, you knew."

Jin simply nodded, "I didn't say anything, to spare him."

Hwoarang couldn't help but laugh, "I can't believe, after all this time, you and my Master knew each other, and nobody fuckin' told me!"

"It wasn't like we were all that acquainted," Jin began, "But I was happy for her, Baek is a good man, and…when she died, I couldn't tell him how."

"How did she…you know?"

"Ogre."

Hwoarang hissed, "Son of a bitch."

"You see the irony don't you?" Jin shifted slightly, looking at Hwoarang.

"I guess yeah, shit!" he rubbed his head, brushing red locks from his eyes, "Still it's kinda surreal, you and my Master."

"And then you came along," Jin finished, smiling a little.

"He kept that secret well," Hwoarang sighed, falling onto the bench beside Jin, "Imagine if they'd married, you and I would be like step-brothers."

"I resent that concept," Jin opined, causing Hwoarang to snarl and slap him on the arm.

"You afraid I'd pick on you, _little brother_?" He poked Jin in the forehead with a firm finger.

"Oh shut up."

* * *

The birds of the evening had gathered for their nightly twirling in the ever darkening sky above his head, and Baek leaned back his head, eyes closed, taking in the sounds of their cluttered cacophony, breathing deeply, remembering her, basking in thoughts of her.

He could see her smiling before him, and it didn't hurt so much now, the memory of her. Perhaps time could not heal his wounds, but it didn't hurt as badly and maybe that was close enough, and maybe he could find consolation in that.

Perhaps now with the fact that Hwoarang knew also, Baek would not have to conceal his displeasures, all it took was a simple look or a nod, and the younger Korean would understand; he was clueless to the feelings of others despite his inquisitive nature, but not insensitive when informed.

The wind in the trees, the trilling of the birds in the air, the smell of the grass and flowers: all these things were her, and in them was his solace. She was the very spirit of life, her kindness, her appreciation for every small facet of life; she had been an integral part in shaping him into the man that he was.

For her he would always seek to be kind, for her he would always be observant, never missing a detail, regard the smallest of things. For her he would not let his past hurts interfere with living, and he would instil these values to those around him.

Always he hurt for her, always he missed her, but he continued to live, and he'd continue to remember her.

A distant voice, a tone he recognised, and turning to his left, Baek espied Hwoarang, closely followed by Jin, walking toward him, engaged in some conversation or other. He kept his eyes fixed on their young faces: Hwoarang's so confident and sure, albeit there was tentativeness there, showing his care and consideration and in Jin's face…in Jin's face were his memories.

She was there, behind the deep ochre of her son's soft eyes, she was there.

They stalled several feet away, Hwoarang fell silent, looking at his Master with regard, not smiling but not frowning, his look simply…soft. Baek cast his eyes over his student and locked eyes with Jin, who held the elder fighter's gaze, and the smallest flicker of a smile passed over his lips.

It wasn't just Jin smiling.

Baek returned the smile.

* * *

**AN**: Finished this quicker than anticipated, I just had to write. I didn't want this to be 'sad' as such but considering in-game events that couldn't be avoided. I hope it was 'romance-y' enough? Feedback on that would be good, I really struggle with romance as a genre.


End file.
